


By Deaths To Die: Revised

by SinclairMaxwell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 14:35:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinclairMaxwell/pseuds/SinclairMaxwell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A revision of the original By Deaths To Die story. Harry is cruelly murdered when Dumbledore decides to eliminate two Horcruxes in one trip but unfortunately, he doesn't stay down without a fight. Voldemort finds a new ally in the Boy Who Lived To Die and Harry comes to turn the tide of the war and the definition of what is alive and what isn't for everyone. Inferi!Harry Slash</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Til Death Do We Part

Author's Note: I have decided to go back and do a little bit of a rewrite of By Deaths To Die after a good reviewer, Quantumphysica, brought it back into my attentions. I'll be adding and taking out a few things, Beta'ing and changing things so that I hope to bring this story back up to my usual standards. The original was written when I was in high school so this rewrite will essentially be the "grown up" version. I'll be aiming to make it quite a bit creepier too. ;) Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own a sugar glider, a dog and a laptop. That is all.

Chapter One...Til Death Do We Part

The water passing by the boat was black as ink, so dark and opaque that he could see the headmaster's reflection clearly where he stood next to him. The only breaks in the dark depths were the Inferi. The corpses were still at the moment, floating like demented fish beneath the surface of the water. The tension that practically vibrated down his spine was nearly unbearable. The dark of the cave was only relieved by the soft low of their Lumos'. Harry wasn't sure it made him feel any better. What he could see was almost worst than not knowing what was actually lying beneath. What made the fear even more palpable was the knowledge that the stillness of the dead was only a temporary state. He had no doubt that once they got too close to the soul fragment's vessel, they would not be as willing to remain still. Not yet, though. It was smooth sailing thus far, the water's surface as smooth as glass and silent. Just himself, Dumbledore, the dead and the darkness.

Harry noted, not for the first time, that the Headmaster's eyes were on him with a calculating gaze. He was no stranger to the manipulations of Albus Dumbledore. He saw more than everyone expected he did. Dumbledore was waiting for the perfect moment but for what, Harry couldn't guess. He was missing too many pieces to the larger puzzle. Too many missing information to even venture a guess, so he waited and watched, hoping the Headmaster's plans would be revealed in their own time. The boat met the frigid stone of the center island with a bump that jarred him almost violently from his musings. Dumbledore stayed in the boat while his student crept unsteadily onto the stone. The Horcrux sat on a pedestal a mere two feet away but even at that distance, Harry could feel the pull it had on him. It felt as though a strand was connecting his scar to the smooth, golden locket, the strand pulling him towards it more and more every moment. He spared a glance back at the still waters all around them nervously. There wasn't any illusion in his mind about what could very well occur the moment he touched that necklace. Nonetheless, he grabbed the thing quickly and scrambled back into the rickety vessel. The metal was cold beneath his fingers but if he closed his eyes and focused, Harry could almost imagine he felt a pulse, like a heartbeat within the Horcrux.

Dumbledore made no move to take the locket when it was timidly offered to him. Instead he turned around, staring back out towards the far shore, a strange, hazy smile on his face.

"I believe it is safest with you, my boy. We don't yet know the effect it could have and your mother's sacrifice will protect you. Best to put it on so it isn't lost, though. If it falls into the water, there will be no retrieving it." The Headmaster said with an odd sort of solemn contemplation.

Without warning, the first shudder wracked the boat, nearly sending them both into the dark depths. The thing almost tipped when something else, something with weight and strength to it, rammed against the wood. Harry didn't want to look. He wanted to stare ahead and pretend that they weren't surrounded by monsters on all sides, probably the frozen bodies of people who had stood against the Dark Lord just as they did. That he wasn't standing there with a man he didn't trust in the slightest. Alas, he forced his eyes onto the depths and felt his stomach go cold and spasm. A pair of milky, dead eyes stared up at him from just below the surface, set in a face that was half rotted away by water and trauma. The Inferi looked like something had taken a bite out of it at some point. Something with a very human sized mouth.

"Sit down, Harry. We suddenly have the need to speed up our journey considerably." Dumbledore ordered and lifted his wand.

He didn't need a teacher to tell him to obey and to obey quickly. He was likely to have nightmares of being thrown from this damned boat for months. The vessel gave a lurch before it shot across the water, making a large wake as it went. The boat rammed the bodies of the Inferi every few seconds like a sick wrecking ball with a sickening thud that forced Harry to lose his dinner in the bottom of the boat. Waves crashed against the boat, splashing fifty years of stagnant, dead water over his half freezing form. He was so frigid that he nearly didn't feel the stone cold hand reach out of the darkness and seize his wrist until it was too late. A cry of fear bubbled out of his throat, unchecked and broiling with terror. His scream echoed in the cavernous chamber as if a bouncy ball were set loose in a mausoleum. He jerked away and clawed at the hand, his blunt fingernails leaving gouges in the stiff, bloated flesh but to no avail. The longer he struggled, the more of the creature that had him in it's hold was revealed from the water, using Harry's own struggles to pull itself free from the water.

Terror seized him in it's icy grip, completely and utterly and he turned to his professor for help. Dumbledore was just watching him be pulled closer to the edge though. He just watched as this monster, this creature, dragged him ever closer to a cold death. His eyes, however, it was Dumbledore's eyes that gave his intentions away. In a moment, those electric blue eyes were as dark, cavernous and empty as the watery tomb they struggled through. Pleasure peeked through those orbs just as surely as the Inferi now moved to the surface, as if the man were happy for a job well done. The sight brought bile up Harry's throat and this time, he fought the urge to vomit once more. He wasn't sure which was the bigger monster anymore, the Inferi or the man responsible for his life, and possible death. Desperation gnawed at his insides like a dog worried a carcass. He didn't want to die! He didn't want to be torn apart for scraps! He was only fifteen, there was so much he hadn't done!

The boat crashed against the unforgiving shore at last, shattering the wood into a thousand tiny, useless pieces and the two humans were thorwn violently from the boat. Dumbledore was quick to scramble to his feet. His pupil, however, was no so fortunate. Harry could feel so much at once. The crash of his body hitting rock and dirt, the crunch of his glasses between the ground and his face, the glass that embedded itself around his eyes and wood, like shrapnel, piercing the front of his legs. His scream of pain was cut short by another shriek of horror as he felt the hold on his wrist remaining and now, another set grabbing hold of his ankles. His terror was a white hot poker in his brain, his struggles resuming as the Inferi began to climb over him. All the while, Dumbledore watched from a safe distance with those same empty eyes. Harry reached out for his teacher but only recieved a satisfied smirk for his efforts. The wall grated open to allow the professor out.

"This is the end, I'm afraid. I can get rid of two of Tom's devilish fragments tonight. The locket and the one inside of you. Normally, I wouldn't leave such a thing to chance but I think being eaten should destroy every bit of you just fine. Ta ta, my boy." Dumbledore crooned and the wall slid shut behind him, trapping Harry in for good.

The darkness was suddenly pitch and absolute and his screams were jarring in the enclosed space. His horror fueled brain finally registered the swift agony as a human mouth clamped down on his neck. This was it then...He was going to be eaten, pieces of his rotting corpse scattered around the bay for the dead to feast on at their leisure. But no...No other teeth set into his trembling flesh, no other Inferi sought to taste him. Just the one, the same one that had held it's grip on his wrist the whole journey across the lake. The monster didn't even take any of his flesh, just merely set his teeth deep into the skin almost like a love bite. Except love bites didn't bleed out nor did they feel cold, like ice had set in the wound. Harry found himself paralized in his fear, unable to move as his vision began to fog. Were they merely saving him for later, like some sort of terrible take out? Whatever the reason, he felt himself being dragged slowly into the water, the cold of the waves seeping in to steal the last of his body heat quickly. His head was under before he registered the need for air. He wasn't being eaten, he was being drowned. His chest because to sear with the need and as his body finally gave in to the reflex, he breathed in a lungful of black water. It was painful, the burning need for air never leaving but instead replaced with the ice cold, heavy feeling permeating his chest cavity. His lungs gave a series of painful twitches before they succumbed at last to the demand of the depths. Awareness left him as his brain died and he sank beneath the waves, the Horcrux around his neck beating a pulse against his skin.

A/N: Here it is then, just over 900 words longer than the original first chapter. Enjoy and review!


	2. As I Walk Through The Valley of the Shadow of Death

Author's Note: Second chapter today and I already have reviews! You guys are great, keep them coming and I'll keep writing! Your reviews are inspiration, a dedicated medication for writer's block.

Disclaimer: Sod off.

Chapter Two...As I Walk Through The Valley of the Shadow of Death

The water was heavy, an ever present burden like a thick blanket around his senses. It was still but through that stillness was a hum, not quite a tangible thing, the sleeping consciousness of every dormant Inferi. It was the pulsing power that animated them that ran through him like a swarm of drowsy bees in his guts and his connection to each and every one. The blackness was complete this far down in the bay yet even through his sightlessness, he could tell where each of the dead rested. They lit up his mind's eye like soft blue fairy lights in the depths. There were steel bands around his chest as he stirred and only after a moment did he realize that he was nestled almost possessively in his Maker's frozen arms. Even as those whitened, dead eyes opened to stare, unseeing, Harry knew that the one who had given him this unlife would never be more than a regular Inferi again. He had given that awareness, that power, to his childe when he had turned him. Harry knew this because his Maker knew this, just as he knew that his Maker was once a human as he had been, a Black. His creator's memories and knowledge swirled within his mind, as it had been for the Inferi Lord before him, and the one before that. The mantle of Lord was passed down along with the Lord before them's knowledge. Harry knew, because of these memories, that in all of that inky blackness, if he were to Call the Inferi, they would respond. He could command them, as was his right as their master now.

The Inferi began to stir and Harry extended his awareness out, allowing it to brush up against each of the dead and decayed, acknowledging them. All remained still in the darkness, unchanged. So what had woken them from their eternal slumber? He remained still for a moment, his toes brushing the lake bottom as he floated curiously in place. There. Yes. It was as if a cord were attached to his subconscious, and something were tugging at the other end insistently, bidding him to come to the surface. The feeling, he recalled, was very similar to the pull he had felt from the Horcrux as he first stepped foot on the platform above. Dumbledore had watched him then. The memory of the old man and his betrayal burned his soul with hatred. He would not be led like a dog on a leash. He was a Lord in his own right now and he would be a puppet no longer. His rage made his kin moan in the deep, a sound that echoed throughout the cavern and the salt water mournfully. Harry took a hold of that strange magic, gripping it tightly with a calculating eye, before shoving it furiously back up the link. Whoever was Calling would have to wait. He would answer but on his own terms.

He slipped from his creator's grasp, floating steadily to the surface. The Inferi were moving to the glassy surface as well, many of them brushing up against him as they rose like lazing, contented felines. Now that he was among their kind, Harry found himself fascinated by the very fact that he had thought at all. What exactly made an Inferi? As he rose ever nearer the surface, he could hear the Call as if it were being whispered directly into his mind.

'I summon you, Lord of the Inferi, Keeper of the Silent Ones. Come to your purpose. Come to your Master.'

Master? He was a Lord, no man commanded him! His hand broke the surface before the rest of him, gripping the edge of the platform with a strength that his human body would never possess. They would see who was Master of who.

o~Voldemort~o

Voldemort stood on the platform in the center of the bay, furious and as enraged as he had ever been. His Horcrux was gone. Missing! His rage spilled over and he released a shriek of fury that crashed around the cavern like a dragon in a tea shop. He tore at his hair, unable to contain it all. There was no doubt that Dumbledore was behind this. None at all. How he had managed to get past the thousand Inferi was a question that needed answering now. The Inferi Lord would give him those answers or he would burn the useless lump of flesh where he stood as well as every one of his creations. The Dark Lord did his best to quell the ire within him and even though his hands still shook with the pent up emotion, he extended his pale hand over the water, Calling the Inferi Lord to his will. The thread of power leaked down into the depths, straining between the corpse below and himself. The bond felt altered somehow. Different and unstable, as if the Inferi Lord weren't completely tied to him. This wasn't possible though. He bonded each new Lord to himself personally with blood and a pound of flesh, sometimes literally. The bond at last seemed to connect but instead of the Inferi Lord simply answering the Call complacently as he should, there was an answering tug. Something had gripped hold of that thread of death magic.

Whatever it was merely held onto the strand for a time as if looking it over, analyzing it, before Voldemort experienced something that he hadn't felt since the loss of his body fifteen years ago. His own magic, shoved back up the line at him! The shock of his own power being forced back at him rocked his physical body, nearly sending him toppling backwards into the inky blackness. This was impossible! Inferi had no will of their own, they were only reanimated corpse. They shouldn't be able to fight back, let alone a direct Calling! Something was going on and it wasn't something he had anticipated. Perhaps it wasn't a simple Inferi. Perhaps something else had taken root in his cave. Someone had been here, invaded his space. It would be foolish to rule anything out until he knew what had occurred. Nonetheless, the Inferi Lord would give him his answers soon enough.

Several yards out, a sickly pale, bloated head peered out over the water, it's lower jaw missing like it had been given mouth to mouth by something with wicked teeth. It's eyes were so swollen with water and rot that they had swelled closed and it's scalp had sloughed off long ago. Just feet from the stone, another head poked emerged, this time in a somewhat better state though far from recognizable as something that had once been human or even alive. Everywhere, Inferi were rising with their Lord as if they wished to see the interaction for themselves. Could the dead feel curiosity? Suddenly, a small, pale hand gripped the side of the platform, blue nails scraping the edge of the stone, tearing themselves to shreds. Voldemort eyed a fingernail that had come off with disgust. It was then that he noticed a small stick that had washed up at the edge of the water. It was soaked and stained black with dead water but nonetheless familiar to him. It was a wand. A sickeningly familiar holly wand, to be exact. He reached down to pick up the brother to his own, nearly missing a short figure pull itself from the water completely. Harry Potter's darkened emerald eyes stared out at him from beneath sopping black hair and his skin a pale only bloodless death could provide, fragments of glass standing out starkly on his face. Around his neck, Slytherin's locket pulsed.

It seemed a new Inferi Lord had been chosen. Even in death he couldn't seem to get rid of this brat. Voldemort's surprise was robbed from him by the sheer joy he felt at seeing his soul fragment safe after all. Safe. Not destroyed. Not dead. His voice came out sounding more pleased than indifferent, as he had attempted.

"Potter. Why am I not surprised."

Harry looked down at himself as if seeing himself for the first time. A sardonic grin was the only answer he received. Voldemort watched with no small sneer as the teenager leaned over and forcefully expelled all of the water from his lungs. It splashed onto the rock wetly, bringing flecks of blood and mucus with it. The Dark Lord stepped back in order to avoid the unpleasant soup landing on his robes.

"I seem to be dead, Tom. I imagine that your soul piece has something or another to do with my conscious reanimation though it's only a theory. My death, though...now that is another matter entirely. Our dear Headmaster seems to have all of the answers, though. Perhaps I'll ask him myself."

There was a chilling hatred in Potter's voice that mirrored the red hot heat of Voldemort's own, a hatred that promised violence to those unlucky enough to face it's wrath. Voldemort's crimson eyes narrowed, his eyes flicking down once toward the locket. It was possible, he supposed, that wearing the locket could have helped in Potter's transformation but…it was incredibly unlikely. No. Something else was amiss here.

"And what sort of things does the old fool think he knows, Potter? What was he doing here? What is he planning?" His demand was met with a cold laugh and the shake of a head.

"Oh no, Lord Voldemort. I am not merely a pawn for you to order as you please. I am the Inferi Lord too and I require the flesh and blood needed to seal the alliance between us. Only after will I discuss anything business related with you."

o~Harry~o

His demand was clearly not what the Dark Lord wanted to hear, so it was with a tense, angry stance that Voldemort shrugged off his robes and bared his forearm. It was pale and unmarred except for a cigarette burn near the bend of it. Harry had similar scars. Many of them in fact. How similar they were to one another. He touched the small flaw with one cold hand. The new Inferi Lord took the time while the man prepared himself to analyze Voldemort at his leisure. Now that he was awakened and in full control of his mental faculties, he could see the difference in the man before him. Gone was the snake-like visage of the resurrection. The Dark Lord looked now as one would imagine Lucifer or some incubi slipping through the night. His long black hair fell like a curtain over his shoulder, spilling to his lower back. His skin remained pale but he had the look that Harry imagine Tom Riddle would have possessed as an adult. All high cheekbones and sharp, aristocratic features. Tom's wand drew a line across his arm in one smooth stroke and Harry was suddenly distracted as the smell of blood filled his senses. It wasn't deep but it was sufficient enough for the nearest Inferi to moan with desire. It would suit his purpose just fine.

Silently, beneath a watchful crimson gaze, he took in the scent like an addict with a fix. Would Voldemort be disgusted by it? Nothing like a person flinching from you sucking the blood off of their arm to knock down your self confidence. Harry snorted at his own thought process. Sometimes, it was hard to hold his thoughts together into one cohesive unit with his mind joined with so many others. They were a hive mind now. It wasn't hard to lose yourself in the swell. He lowered his mouth to the wound and ran his tongue teasingly, exploratorily over the slice. Flavor burst to life in his mouth so intensely that it made his jaw ache. It was like liquid energy on his tongue. Power. His mouth latched onto the opening, the sensations coursing through him both thrilling and joyful. It was the first thing other than hate he had felt since his death. He even found himself somewhat...aroused, a feeling he was unfamiliar with. Harry only barely registered that someone was making desperate moans of pleasure before he realized that the sounds were coming from him. The blood flow began to slow and even when he nibbled the edges of it to encourage more, eventually the wound clotted and would give no more.

Harry jerked back with an unneeded gasp of delight. If only he could have his fill of that magical liquid life! He found himself envious of the skin that held that sweetness back. Emerald eyes hadn't left the Dark Lord when he noted the man about to carve his arm like a Thanksgiving turkey. An entirely devious idea wormed it's way into his mind and he found himself staying Voldemort's hand.

"If you wouldn't mind, I would have you save that portion for later. There are desires for the flesh that have nothing to do with feeding and everything to do with experience." At the man's deep frown, Harry found himself amending his request, certain that Voldemort would rather not have to cut a chunk of his skin off if he could help it, "It need not be you, but I don't intend to spend my unnaturally long afterlife wanting."

The Dark Lord nodded and gave a heavy glance at him in return, looking him over as if he were something interesting to be observed before being purchased. It was a heavy silence that passed before Harry apparently met inspection standards.

"I will do the deed myself. I won't have you trying to weasel your way out of our contract later under any circumstances. Let's get back to the base beforehand though. I don't imagine that the stone would be all that comfortable." The Dark Lord said calmly but noted without relish the fact that another being was skimming across the water.

Harry watched the Shade approach them, flowing like an inky sheet across the still water. The transformed soul of one of his hive, no doubt, changed in spirit as surely as his body was changed when he left it behind. The smoky thing condensed to a tendril and wound itself around Harry's outstretched arm he offered it. Voldemort gave it a look heaving with disdain before bidding him follow on his way out of the cave. As they left, the Boy Who Lived to Die began to give his new ally the information on Dumbledore that he so desired.

A/N: Wooowwww, much longer than the original.


	3. Death Waits For No Hero

A/N: Alright ladies and gents. You certainly have not disappointed and I was very pleased to see how many of you reviewed, account holders and gusts alike. The title of this chapter is also a story written by tyger666. Really good fic by the way and on a similar vein to this one. Also it just occurred to me that I forgot to put warnings on this fic so here they are.

Warnings: Character death, slash, violence, cannibalism.

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all but the sweet nothings in my ear. And maybe a hedgehog.

Chapter Three...Death Waits For No Hero.

Voldemort's hide away was your stereotypical aristocrat manor in the same way that Big Ben was your stereotypical building. It was enormous, a sprawling complex made to not only withstand attack and blockade but to house many of his followers. Listening to the Dark Lord give an impromptu tour of sorts was amusing and surreal. There was apparently a training grounds of sorts on the Western side and a labyrinthine set of dungeons and tunnels below that held some of Voldemort's more noisome experiments and escape routes should the fortress ever be overtaken. It was a piece of magical, architectural beauty and everywhere he walked, Harry felt the call of the dead and forgotten here in this place. They were thick in the air as if he could reach out and pluck them like heavy fruits out of the empty space. Ghosts may not be rotting carcasses but they left an imprint, an imprint of hate and terror, delicious terror. Their fear was like a cream filled candy on the back of his tongue, quivering and ready to burst at any moment. The Shade wrapped around his arm shivered in delight.

The Dark Lord had relinquished his wand back to it's owner. Harry was anxious for a moment that he would be unable to do magic any longer. Could the dead still use magic if they were left in their old bodies? It was an interesting thought. Now that he couldn't feel pain, he had the chance to do some experiments on himself to satiate his curiosity. It was strange to be caught in a body that didn't feel temperature changes or pain. Most emotions were currently out of his scope of experience, save for rage and curiosity. He could still feel in the physical sense but some things were lost to this form of his. Harry was eager to learn if pleasure evaded him as well. First things were first though. He raised his wand and with an unneeded breath of as much trepidation as he was able to feel, cast a quick drying and warming charm on himself. His magic came slightly sluggishly at first as if waking from a deep sleep but came nonetheless.

Voldemort lead him to a private study and called for a house elf to bring a tray of fruits and dessert. Gesturing for Harry to sit on one of the plush lounge sofas, the man retrieved a snifter of fine Bourbon and two glasses from a cabinet behind the large mahogany desk. The room was bathed in a soft firelight that glinted off of the glasses and allowed the shadows to rest lazily about. The Shade slipped away through those shadows to, Harry supposed, explore their new base of operations. Voldemort tossed back his first drink before pouring himself another and filling a glass for his new ally. The food tray appeared without a wait and the Dark Lord waved him towards it.

"Help yourself, Harry."

There was some sort of chocolate cake and biscuits as well as assorted fruits decorating the tray. Any normal teenager would devour the collection. Harry himself would have normally jumped on the chance to eat such rich, delicious things. That was when he had been alive, though. Now, such things held no interest for him. The sickly sweet smell wafting from the tray was distasteful and altogether unpleasant. So that was a no on typical teenager food. Perhaps meat would sit better with him. He would have to wait and see if he needed sleep until later.

"I don't think this body needs human sustenance any longer."

"I see. So what will you do now? Dumbledore left you to die, as good as murdered you himself. He is safely ensconced in Hogwarts, though." The man's voice seemed unconcerned and empty though vermillion eyes were watching the Inferi Lord shrewdly.

Harry steepled his fingers in front of his face, his emerald eyes narrowing as he stared into the fire, unaware of how disturbing the light made his already hollow and pale features. He could follow Dumbledore to Hogwarts but what good would that do? He wasn't even sure what the boundaries of his own death were yet. Dead was dead but how much of what was typically considered dead counted in his situation? How much of what he experienced as his unlife was contributed to the Horcrux inside of him and how much was part of his turning? His body nearly hurt with the heavy ache to return to ground, to the dark cold waters that had spawned him. Without the knowledge of his own limitations and needs, it would be nothing short of foolish to follow to Hogwarts and take on the Headmaster on his own ground. No matter how much he wanted his revenge on Dumbledore, it was likely going to have to wait. He could likely do it on his own but it would be very difficult. No, his place was here until he could gather allies and find his own limitations. Gaining Voldemort's trust came first and he could only do that by admitting what Dumbledore had told him. He had kept his being a Horcrux out of his explanation. Harry wasn't even sure what he was going to do with the information, let alone how the Dark Lord would react. It all depended on Voldemort at this point.

"I will stay for now. I'm not entirely sure what the limitations of my body are yet or what needs I may have. I'm sure that my Shade will give me those much needed answers but for now, I must admit something that I was hesitant to before. The reason that Dumbledore left me to die was that he claimed that being eaten by Inferi would likely take care of the soul piece, a fact that he was clearly mistaken on for the locket and I are still here. Dumbledore told me that I was the eighth Horcrux. Your soul sleeps inside of the scar you gave me fifteen years ago, I assume. It explains the connection we share, why I can feel your emotions occasionally. He is seeking them out to destroy them. He seemed to think he could take care of two in one visit."

Voldemort stiffened, standing from where he had collapsed into a throne-like, high-backed chair. He was still for a long moment, his fists clenching and unclenching. What must it be like, to lose a piece of your very soul? Did it feel like a little death in itself until you had no soul left? It must be a strange and painful thing. Harry had experienced death of the body but his soul remained intact, cold as it was. The Dark Lord began to pace, clearly thinking over his options. It seemed something he would be at for some time. Harry didn't mind. The dead only had time. Ten minutes passed before the man turned back to him, answers on his lips.

"Lily Potter. She was the sacrifice the ritual needed. I'd done it so many times already...No matter. I'll have Bellatrix gather the vessels and bring them here for safe keeping. You'll be staying in the suite attached to my own if that pleases you. The library will be open for your use as well."

"That will do nicely, thank you."

Voldemort returned to his seat slowly and the two of them sat in companionable silence for some time. The clock on the wall chimed one in the morning, seeming to draw the living wizard from his quiet reverie. His drink had long been forgotten beside him. Harry gave him a long slow blink of question when he stood, offering the Inferi a hand up. The teen took it without hesitation though his eyes were still brimming with curiosity.

"Shall we finish sealing our arrangement before the night ends?"

Harry gave the man a lingering grin, full of dark promise.

"Lead the way, my Lord."

Voldemort's bedroom was only a few short doors away. The study, Harry realized, must have been the man's private office. It was dim there, lit only with a series of small green lights that cast an eerie light over the room. Peculiar but not altogether unpleasant. It was a soothing light on eyes that had been submerged in water darker than midnight for Merlin only knows how long. Come to think of it, Harry wasn't sure how long he had been dead for now.

"What's today's date?" He asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow at him, giving the boy a rather peculiar look.

"July 10th."

Four months. Four months he had been gone. Had anyone missed him? Had his friends spared a thought towards where he'd gone? Had the Dursley's waited for him at the train station? Had they been glad when he didn't show up? He supposed that it would have been a depressing train of thought but melancholy simply wasn't an emotion he possessed at the moment. Neither was trepidation, really. After all, weren't normal teenager nervous when they were about to lose their virginity? Here he stood though, allowing his once enemy to lead him to the bathroom to wash before he was ravished with no sense of anxiety at all. It was strange to not feel anything where he knew an emotion should have been. Voldemort began to unwrap him as if he were a candy, the clothes he died in dropping unceremoniously to the floor. Harry laid a hand on the strip of bare skin where he had slowly plucked each button free from his undershirt and shivered. His flesh was warm, warmer than Harry's even with the warming charms on and his heart beat like a hammer against his skin. It was half amusing and half surprising. Somehow, Harry had expected the Dark Lord's heart to be as dead as his own, but here it was, beating, pumping his life's essence through quivering veins. Voldemort was a great man but only a man nonetheless. He could be injured, killed. He had yet to face that final journey. Harry didn't find the journey all that thrilling, personally. For a single moment, feeling Voldemort's heart beat against his hand, he envied his life. He wanted to curl up and huddle against his warmth. Like a candle flame in the darkness.

Voldemort's fingers ran down the teen's sides like spiders, bringing a more pleasant shivering to the surface. Crimson eyes were piercing, burning into his flesh as surely as fiendfyre would. It took the Inferi a heartbeat to realize that the Dark Lord had been speaking.

"Shall we bathe then, Harry?"

It probably wasn't a bad idea considering he'd been sitting in festering water with a thousand rotting corpses for four months...but the moment that he laid emerald eyes on the full, steaming bath tub, all he could see was his screaming, terrified figure being pulled into the frigid lake, Dumbledore smirking as he left him to die. He resisted when his new ally tried to tug him into the water after him and sat himself down on the side of the tub.

"I'll just shower thanks. I'm not all eager to get resubmerged in the same element that I died in. All I see is that damnable man leaving me there to die."

Voldemort gave him a blank look in response, a considering look.

"You really do hate him now."

Was it such a surprise? How could he not hate him? He'd stolen his life, robbed him of the only thing he'd had for his own. He'd ended his life before it even truly began, silenced so many milestones and experiences he should have had and now never would. Dumbledore had made him into a monster, so a monster he would get.

"I'm seriously considering eating pieces of him and making him watch before I finish him off." The thought brought a sly, disturbing grin to Harry's face, a smile that brought no doubt to the Dark Lord's mind that the boy would do just that if given the option.

Harry stood and made his way to the shower nearby. It wasn't long before Voldemort followed. Arms slid around his wait, fingers circling his belly button tantalizingly. The teen glanced back at him shrewdly, a smirk slithering onto his mouth like a forked serpent. He allowed the man's attentions, closing his eyes to better enjoy the sensation of human hands sliding over his skin once more. It had been so long since he had felt the touch of a warm body, even just the barest of brushes. The heat that trailed across his skin from skillful fingers and blunt nails had him arching gladly into the Dark Lord's waiting form. Any second thoughts he may have had as a human had folded away with the beat of his heart, revealing something grotesque and new beneath. Harry felt a hand trail a soapy line down his thighs, shuddering in excitement. He reached back to pull his new ally into a searing kiss, pleased suddenly that the warming charms kept his body as natural feeling as possible. Voldemort tasted sinful and suddenly, the Inferi wanted to taste it all. Not in the same way that he wanted to devour Dumbledore but in a way filled with desire and the promise of sweat soaked sheets. It was as if a dim light in his brain was being turned up, increasing the radiance the more the man possessed his body. Every sweep of crimson eyes, every caress and flick of tongue and teeth. He would be covered in possessive bites tomorrow but the thought only raised that brightness, a strange kind of undefinable awareness within him, even higher. Harry smirked as he was pushed into the smooth marble shower wall. He could get use to this.

A/N:Unfortunately, due to FFN's adult rating witch hunt, that's where I have to end it. I'm not terribly gifted at writing more graphic stuff anyways but if anyone's interested in continuing the scene for the Ao3 version of this story, just PM me! Figured I'd post this as a graduation gift to myself today lol. Enjoy!


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